"You shame me," he said quietly, and dropped his gaze to Eillean's skull. "You should have told me. I would have… begged to carry her.Even for a little of the way."

Sgaile hesitated at the sight of Gavril's skull, but then he held out the draped cloth. Magiere snatched it away and laid it carefully over the skulls in Leesil's arms.

He quickly wrapped them, hiding them from all prying eyes and stood up only when Magiere coaxed him.

Some of the elves gathered around still looked angry, but others lowered their heads in rising sorrow. Leesil didn't understand why his grandmother's return and oneElvish word had caused such a change.

Magiere slid her arm around his shoulders, but she looked behind him toward En’nish.

"You touch him again," she said coldly, "and I won't need a sword to take your head."

Leesil heard no answer from En’nish, but she came into sight around his right side, circling wide as she approached Sgaile. Urhkar strode into Leesil's view and cut her off.

Without the slightest emotion on his face, the elder Anmaglahk raised an empty hand, palm outward. He waved it between them, as if brushing some annoyance from the air.

Anger drained from En’nish’s face. She flinched as if struck suddenly by someone she cared for. She backed away from Urhkar, turned, and fled from the clearing.

Wynn climbed to her feet as Osha tucked away his stilettos and hurried to assist her. When he offered his hand, the sage pulled away and wouldn't look at him.

"We should get out of sight immediately," Wynn said.

Chap still paced before the elves, glancing every so often at Leesil.

An elderly man in a quilted russet shirt pushed through the crowd. His unruly hair was darker than the others' and shot with steel gray. Chap turned on him with a snarl. The old man froze just inside the ring of onlookers but would not retreat.

"Sgailsheilleache?" he called.

In an unguarded moment, relief flashed across Sgaile's narrow features. "Foirreach-ahare!"

"Chap, stop! Leave him be," Wynn called; then she whispered to Magiere, "Sgaile called that man his grandfather."

Chap turned a hesitant circle back toward Wynn, his eyes still on the new arrival. The older man approached, eying the dog. He didn't appear angry or frightened, only a bit startled and worried.

Sgaile spoke rapidly in Elvish, and his grandfather's answers carried a tone of polite admonishment. Leesil wondered at what was said and looked to Wynn. The sage followed their words with fixed attention but offered no translation. Sgaile gestured Leesil forward and kept his voice low.

"Hurry. Come to my home. You will be safe there."

Leesil bit his tongue to keep from snapping. Sgaile had made this promise before, and his assurance had proved false. Leesil wondered how much worse things could get.

Wynn gasped softly as she stepped through a wool curtain and into an oak tree as wide as a small cottage. Moss from outside flowed inward across the chamber's floor, though she could not fathom how it remained a vibrant yellow-green without sunlight. The oak's interior had grown into a large rounded room with naturally curving doorways and walls. The walls were bark-covered like its outside, but in some places bare wood showed through. Not as if the bark had been stripped, but rather that the oak had grown this way yet still lived and thrived. Tawny-grained wood shaped arches to other curtained spaces. Steps rose upward around the left wall and through an opening in the low ceiling, perhaps leading to further rooms above.

Ledges at the height of seating places were adorned with saffron-colored cushions covered in floral patterns of a lighter yellow. Through one archway Wynn saw a smaller chamber with stuffed mattresses laid out upon the moss carpet. Soft pillows and green wool blankets graced those resting places.

She ran fingertips lightly across the bark wall as Osha stepped in.

After what had happened in the village green, she no longer felt certain he could be trusted. He drew blades at the sight of the skulls, but not to protect those under guardianship.

Magiere swept aside the doorway curtain and looked about with little interest in the surroundings. Her study of the place was more a wary search for potential threats or perhaps other ways out. She finally stepped in, holding aside the curtain.

Leesil entered, still gripping the bundled skulls, and behind him came

Chap, who surveyed their surroundings much the same way as Magiere had. Sgaile carried the skulls' chest under one arm. Beneath the other he held the cloak-wrapped weapons. Last came Sgaile's soft-spoken grandfather, and yet there was room for all.

Osha stared at the bundle in Leesil's arms. He took a long breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled.

"It is a blessing you speak our language," he said to Wynn. "When I saw those… and heard En’nish…"

He did not look at her. Wynn assumed he was shamed by yet another violent breach of guardianship. And he should be.

Sgaile gently set the chest at the room's far side.

"I should not have been so quick in my thoughts," Osha added.

Wynn didn't answer. Sgaile laid the cloak-bundled weapons beside the chest and turned a hard gaze upon Osha.

"The day has been long," he said. "The remaining journey will be longer. You may take leave for food and rest."

A polite dismissal, but Sgaile's dissatisfaction was plain. En’nish had been a growing threat, but Wynn had come to expect better from Osha.

Osha looked down at her, as if to say something more, but he quickly headed for the doorway. He gave a brief nod of respect to Sgaile's grandfather and left.

Magiere turned on Sgaile. "You gave us your word that we'd be safe, and it meant nothing."

"Please sit and rest," Sgaile's grandfather interceded. "Be at ease in my home, for none will trouble you here."

Beneath his thick elven accent, his Belaskian was perfect. Wynn stepped in, hoping to divert further conflict.

"You are not Anmaglahk," she said to the elder elf. "How did you learn Belaskian?"

"He is a Shaper-specifically a healer," Sgaile explained."And a clan elder. He has twice been on envoy, sailing to the human coastal countries. He also serves enclaves many leagues apart, including Crijheaiche, the housing place of the Anmaglahk. I have taught him more of the language, at his request."

Sgaile stepped back and held his palm out. "This is my grandfather, Gleanneohkan'thva."

Wynn turned the long name in her head-Reposed within the Glen. Even she would have trouble saying it properly, and she hesitated to try. Enough offense had already been given on this journey by a slip of the tongue.

"Gleann?" she said hesitantly.

Dark flecks of brown within his amber irises gave them a strange allure. The thin, soft creases around his mouth made Wynn think of an old owl. Unlike Sgaile and his comrades, Gleann looked Wynn straight in the eyes, sternly.

A faint curl grew at the corners of his mouth. He placed one hand over his heart with a nod, but as he turned to Sgaile, one feathery eyebrow rose.

"What have you done?"

Sgaile fidgeted like a boy caught in mischief. "I must report on our progress. Would you ask Leanalham to bring food for our guests?"

As the words left his lips, the doorway's curtain flipped wildly aside. A pretty elven girl nearly fell into the room in a rush, panting out Elvish.

"Grandfather?… Uncle! What has happened? I heard you brought-"

She sucked in a breath so quickly that it choked her and backed against the wall beside the door. She stared fearfully at Magiere.

Wynn guessed the girl at about sixteen by human or elven standards, for the early years of either's development were much the same. Leanalham's hair was almost dark enough for light brown rather than the varied blonds of her people. Her eyes, with their large irises…